The Breakout
by Nemi-Dina
Summary: Santana thought that her usual saturday afternoon would end wonderfully when Finn and Puck, her roommates, caved in to her demands but after a strange turn of events, she, Finn, Puck and the rest of their friends find themselves thrown into a surreal world. A world in which "survival" is the only moral they are left to have. Rachel/Finn/Santana, Mercedes/Sam, Quinn/Puck.
1. Chapter 1

_**This is a post high school zombie story. All characters involved are in New York for a reason and Finn is still alive. I hope you enjoy it.**_

_**Warning: The rating may change overtime, several characters will die and I'm not entirely sure which couple will be the end game couple, I guess it'll by a surprise by the end of the story. If you like Rachel, Finn and Santana, you should know that they're the most important characters of the story.**_

* * *

_Chapter One: To Tim's Den._

...

"Full house! HAHAHAHAHA!" Santana hollered as soon as she set the cards over the wooden surface and slammed her fist down on the old and worn table.

"No way!" Puck muttered and looked down at the set of cards, sighing and whispering profanities as he put down his own.

"You cheated, huh? You cheated!" Finn yelled out and smacked his cards over the same table, pointing an incriminating finger at the girl.

"You just can't handle loosing again, can you Finessa?" Santana chuckled at her friend's pout.

"This is so unfair, I can't believe you're actually winning twice in a row." Puck complained with a frown.

"That's 'cause she cheated!" Finn squealed.

"I did not!" Santana asserted proudly.

"Yes you did!" Finn countered.

"No I didn't." Santana complained.

"Yes, I think you did too." Puck agreed with Finn.

"You freaking losers! You just can't handle the goddamn truth!" Santana shrieked.

"What truth?" Finn asked, intrigued.

"The fact that you two neanderthals got beaten by a girl, that's what!" She exclaimed.

"Hold on a second." Puck interrupted her with a raised hand. "First of all, you did not beat down two neanderthals. Second of all, the only man that's getting screwed here is me 'cause we all know Finessa ain't got any balls and also by the – haaa, Fuck!"

Puck craned his neck around to look at a sulking Finn.

"Did you seriously just slap me across the face?" Puck asked incredulously.

Santana collapsed on the table, she was laughing so hard she could hardly breath.

"You were being inconsiderate, you brat." Finn explained with a shrug.

Puck opened his mouth to scream profanities, but Finn's phone rang loudly and whatever came out of the jewish boy's mouth was drown by the loud ringtone. With a giggle, Finn picked up the phone and raised it to his ear, glad to be saved by the bell.

"Hey, what's up?" He said nonchalantly.

Santana looked up, her laughing coming slowly to a stop. Curious, she looked over at Puck, raising her eyebrows as she wondered who Finn could be speaking to. Puck shrugged, clearly not caring much about it all.

"What? Hey, I can't hear you. What epidemic?" Finn asked in confusion as his ex co-worker stammered on the phone.

Puck was about to leave the kitchen but stopped dead in his tracks at the mention of an epidemic.

"Biting? Attacking?" Finn chuckled. "Man you're high on some really crazy shit, aren't you?"

Santana furrowed her eyebrows as she noticed a semblance of anxiety on Finn's face but she didn't have time to think much of it as the boy hung up, annoyed and bothered by his ex co-worker.

"What was that all about?" Puck asked with a nod as he leaned on the burgundy-colored brick wall.

"Just one of the soldiers I met at the army." Finn said nonchalantly and rose to his feet, sauntering to the fridge to grab a snack.

"Yeah, we figured." Santana muttered and rolled her eyes. "But what was he talking about? What epidemic?"

"It's nothing serious, the guy's high or drunk every saturday afternoon anyways and today's saturday so he must be high on something." Finn explained with a shake of his head as he pulled a box of left-over food from the fridge.

"So it's just a false alert then?" Puck asked skeptically.

"Oh my god, Puck. The end of the world isn't coming today, please try to spend one single day without googling the word _apocalypse_." Finn said exasperatedly.

"But it's all very logical! I mean with all the wars going on in the world and the C.I.A and the army testing weird stuff on animals and humans, something real shitty is bound to happen." Puck said with a gasp.

"Seriously, Puck. I'm with Finn on that one. You need to get back to reality." Santana said with a chuckle. "And speaking of reality, you two owe me! I've won, _twice_, remember?"

Puck and Finn growled loudly, feeling shame for losing against their female roommate.

"What do you want us to do?" Puck sighed.

"There's that garage you talked to me about, remember? The one out of town, near your uncle's farm – " Santana started.

"Oh god. Oh God!" Finn started to mumble unintelligible words under his breath.

" – Well, I passed by the place a little while ago and noticed that black babe." Santana continued on with her eyes shinning as she thought of the shimmery black vehicle.

"Please let it be something legal." Puck pleaded.

"Don't you two dare drag me into this." Finn warned.

"I just thought since you know the guy," Santana pleaded with an exaggerated pout. "Oh wonderful and dearly beloved midget, maybe you'd talk him into letting me buy the motorcycle for a reasonable price."

"Hell, no. I don't deal with that mechanic, not anymore." Puck said disapprovingly and shook his head.

"Liar!" Santana cried out. "I caught you yesterday texting that old rag about some engine stuff!"

"Fuck, I completely forgot that we were roommates and that your idea of personal space was absolutely non-existent." Puck muttered with a grimace.

"So are you gonna help me or what? Comm'on midget, I'm your best female friend." Santana pleaded with raised hands as if she were about to assault the boy.

"Actually, you're my only female friend." Puck deadpanned.

Santana dragged her feet as she walked around the kitchen island and in the direction of the living-room. When she passed by Puck and Finn, she made sure her glaring was dramatic enough for them to feel scared and mumbled complaints regarding false manliness.

"Oh God, Oh God." Finn rumbled as he followed Santana to the living-room and flopped down on the couch next to her. "I'm so going to regret this but I'll help you make that stupid dream of yours come true."

Santana looked up with a gasp.

"Puck!" She called. "Puck, get your ass here! Finn is going to go with me, all you have to do is call the guy and let him know we're coming!"

"Well, don't come crying on my shoulder when you realize the guys working there are creepy perverts." Puck warned and pulled his cell phone out of his back pocket.

"Just freaking call and ask for a discount!" Santana hollered and jumped up, ready to get dressed and leave the apartment.

"Finnessa, I want you ready in less than five minutes!" She warned and patted the tall boy's cheek before taking off toward her room.

…...

"Remind me again, just why I agreed to this?" Finn complained as they walked down the path leading to the said-garage.

To Santana, the trek from the train station to the warehouse was a pleasurable health walk leading them away from the pollution and chaos of New York City, but to Finn, it all looked like a never-ending desert, a trap of some sort which would possibly and eventually cause them to die of dehydration.

"Santana." Finn Hudson grumbled lamentably.

"Cheer up Frankenstein! It's summer, the sun is high in the sky, the air we breathe is absolutely wonderful and – oh! Look ahead, look! I can see the warehouse down the lane!"

Happy with her sway over the boys, Santana strutted forward the way she did back in high school when she was a cheerio, singing a happy R'n'B song which Finn failed to recognize. He regretted deeply the dumb promise he had made after loosing a bet to the fierce Santana Lopez and he felt stupid for caving in. In fact, he wasn't even sure how Santana of all people had managed to get such a hold of him and Puck. First, the three of them were high school acquaintances at best, then they were friends of some sort, and then one day they became roommates.

But now that he thought about it, he remembered it all started with Rachel. She had dumped him, discarding him for some other guy named Broody, the same day she kicked Santana out of her studio apartment and called Puck to let him know that he could not come over to her place to stay the night. So they'd found each other, roaming the streets of New York, looking for a place to spend the night. And then they'd moved from one place to another. From different hotel rooms in the beginning, and then from a mediocre tiny studio apartment to the three-room apartment that they now shared. Overtime and without even realizing it, they'd bonded and adjusted to each other's routines and now that he walked alongside Santana, Finn mentally debated how guilty he would look if he were to face her mother.

"Hey, you know what your mother said about buying anything with less than four wheels on." He complained when they reached the old beat-up warehouse with the name "Tim's den" stuck to its side.

"Yes, of course I do, in fact I can quote her exact words." Santana said with pride. "She said '_this money is yours now, so go to New York and live your big dream_,' and that's exactly what I'm doing."

Finn sighed heavily and looked up at the rotten and yet lit sign hanging sideways from the top of the warehouse.

"I think that by live your big dream, she meant do something of your life, not purchase some stupid motorbike." Finn felt the need to correct her assumptions.

She ignored his remarks and pushed past a group of men standing by the entrance.

"Gentlemen." Finn nodded as he passed through the group of men but none of them acknowledged his or Santana's presence.

"Weird." Finn whispered to himself when he turned around to take one last look at the four men, all huddled near the entrance to the place.

…...

Puck grabbed his wallet and keys before passing the strap of his duffle bag over his shoulder. He looked one last time at the apartment, making sure he hadn't forgotten anything before he shut the front door. As he put the key in the lock, his phone rang in the back pocket of his jeans and he cursed, letting go of his keys by accident. Not bothering to pick them up, he pulled out his phone, checking the caller ID and was surprised to see the familiar name written on the screen: _Rachel Berry_.

He debated whether he should just ignore her and leave for work but as he picked his keys off the floor and proceeded to slip his phone back in his pocket, a shrill voice called his name and he startled. Turning around in a hurry, he saw Mercedes, still wearing her pajamas and rushing down the hall and toward him with tears dropping down her cheeks.

"Puck!" She shrieked again. "It's Sam, he's – I think he's – one minute – I don't know what –"

Puck restrained from rolling his eyes or sighing exasperatedly, Mercedes was not the kind of girl who shrieked or panicked for nothing. If she were in such a state, then something was wrong.

"Did you just jump out of bed and run all the way from Brooklyn to here?" Puck wondered incredulously.

The apartment he shared with Finn and Santana was in the Queens and the ride from Mercedes' place to there took at least half an hour or twenty minutes if the traffic was all good and he knew that going through the subway station took practically the same amount of time.

"What happened?" He asked when she bent down, panting.

"Sam killed a girl." Mercedes choked out.

Puck's eyes grew twice bigger, but he refused to feel the panic that rushed through his veins.

"I swear Mercedes, if this is some sick joke – " He started, pointing a finger at her.

Santana shook her head frantically, her messy locks bouncing with each move, hiccups escaping her mouths every two seconds.

"He just – just came in wounded and all and there was so much blood!" She said frantically, grabbing Puck's collar and shaking him furiously.

"Calm down." Puck tried to sooth her, grabbing her hands and pulling her arms around his waist, holding her against his chest.

"Did you call the police?" Puck asked in a whisper.

Mercedes shook her head, sobbing and shaking.

"I – I don't know – don't know what to do, Puck." She sobbed into his chest, staining his shirt and holding onto him desperately.

…...

Finn complained again and again but she chose to ignore him as she bent down to take a closer look at the dark motorbike.

"When are you finally gonna make your mind up? And please don't tell me we're about to go for yet another ride to check the quality of whatever motorbike's drawing your attention." Finn said with a sigh.

He was growing tired of the creepy garage by the second. Not only were the men who worked there quite rude and edgy but the mechanic who owned the place wouldn't leave his office, as if he couldn't care less about his clients.

"Shut up, Finessa. Your whining is giving me a headache and you know I need enough peace of mind to pick the right baby." Santana said with a chuckle.

"Hey, has Puck called the mechanic?" He asked

"Yes, oh delicate Finnessa, I told you about a hundred times." Santana growled.

"But I'm sick and tired of this place, it's so off-putting. Not to mention, this is wrong, your mom is going to kill me and since we've been here for ages I think the guys standing by the entrance are planning on raping me or something." Finn said nervously and started taping his foot impatiently.

"You're a freaking ogre and you eat like a horse, how could they possibly be interested in you? And even if they were, you could take them down in a second." Santana croaked and rolled her eyes at Finn's childishness.

Finn almost whimpered when Santana passed a leg over the vehicle, setting herself onto it with a wide grin. Out of the corner of his eye, he'd noticed one of the forty year-old men standing by the entrance convulsing strangely and the sight reminded him of a dreadful experiment gone wrong back in the military base.

"And about my mom, well. She never said anything about how I'd spend the money. She just gave it to me and wished me luck for New York." She said excitedly as she pushed up the kickstand with her foot.

"Santana!" Finn growled loudly and put each hand on either side of the handlebar.

"You made me a promise Hudson! Are you chickening out now?" She warned with a smirk.

"No, no, no." Finn muttered. "I just have a bad feeling about this place."

Memories of Mike struck Finn, a fellow soldier who'd called in the morning, mumbling something barely comprehensible, something about scientific experiments and some soldier gone insane and violent.

"Well, in that case you should have tried out for psychic-college or something." She said mockingly and titled her head to the side as she watched the tall boy's face twist into a grimace.

"Santana, I'm telling you." He whispered uneasily as he stared at the group of sloppy men limping around the large garage. "Something's off. You shouldn't buy anything from _them_. They're so fucking high!"

"Where else am I gonna find a cheaper MT-09 Yamaha beauty?" She challenged.

"Well, it's not supposed to be that cheap anyways. They must have stolen it." Finn advised with a shake of his head.

He didn't want Santana to worry so he thought he had better not mention the symptoms that he recalled indicated a case of Z042 fever. Besides, though he had been discharged and wouldn't get a chance to be a soldier ever again, he was supposed to keep the whole thing to himself, he was bound by professional secrecy.

"Oh but please pretty please, oh wondeful Finessa," Santana pleaded with a very dramatic sigh. "_this_ is my dream and you promised you'd help me achieve it!"

"I didn't think your dream involved some shady and impossible deal." Finn retorted.

"Oh, common, let's just buy it and leave, O.K?" She muttered defeatedly and stoop up nonchalantly, passing her leg over the motorbike.

"It has better not be a freaking hoax." He snarled as they walked over to the mechanic scribbling something on paper, sitting at a messy desk in the corner of the large warehouse.

"But Puck said he knows those guys and that though they're shady, their stuff work!" Santana hollered.

"Yeah, he sure did." Finn whispered when they reached the mechanic.

The plump man looked pale and deathly under the dim lights of the garage. Unnatural and dark bluish circles gave him a disturbingly austere look, the kind that Finn had seen before on a corpse, and his bulging eyes were clouded by a disconcerting but tiny layer of pus. Santana gasped at the sight of the man but managed to keep her mouth shut, repressing the burning need to criticize the man's hygiene.

"If that isn't Puck's boy!" The stout man cheered loudly, causing the rest of the men hobbling around to stumble back inside.

"Hi, Bob." Finn greeted the man with a nod but didn't step closer for the mechanic not only looked ghostly but was also reeking of sweat and death, equalling the pinnacle of off-putting with the layers of black oil and gasoline staining his face and shirt.

"So has your sweetheart made up her mind yet?" The ghostly looking man asked, sending splutter their way as he spoke.

Santana stumbled backwards as she rushed away from the stinky man. She liked neither his appearance nor his demeanor, not to mention that the living thing had dared calling her "Finn's sweetheart."

"Yes, sir." Finn said nervously as he watched the rest of the disturbing men reeling in and toward Santana "She'll take the MT-09 Yamaha."

"Wanna try it again before you buy it, honey?" The man hollered in Santana's direction but the latter didn't hear him for the four sloppy men surrounding her seemed to enthrall her full attention.

"Who are those guys?" Finn asked worriedly as he watched Santana do what Santana did best and which consisted of an elaborated form of trash-talk.

"Some buddies from the road ya' know." The mechanic said nonchalantly as he reached for the bright red keys tucked in the top drawer of his desk.

"They look sick." Finn observed and mentally debated if he should walk over there, grab Santana by the arm and run away.

"Yeah, it's that stupid dog I had, ya' know that wild Pit Bull? Well, it went crazy a few days ago and bit every one of us." The man said with a chuckle and threw the keys Finn's way.

Finn reached out awkwardly, the tips of his fingers catching onto the strange and heavy key chain. He looked down at his hands in surprise, holding three red keys and a red swiss army knife.

"Yeah, that's how I roll!" The dirty old man sang out nonchalantly and went back to rummaging through his messy desks and Finn wondered at the man's unnatural carelessness.

"You got bitten by a raging dog and you're just gonna sit here like nothing happened?" Finn asked incredulously and craned his neck around worriedly, looking for Santana.

"I just gave you the keys to the Yamaha 'cause you're Puck's boy and I trust you people to just go for a ride and come back and pay for the damn thing but this is how you repay me?!" The man croaked out in irritation and swung a hand in the air.

Finn gulped when he caught sight of Santana loosing her temper and pushing one of the men's chest, causing him to fall to the ground with a loud thud. For some strange reason, the mechanic didn't even realize the commotion created by Santana near the red motorbike, his eyes remained frozen in a strange stupor as he glared at Finn.

"Hum... you know what, you're right." The boy chuckled nervously. "I'm sorry. We'll just go for the ride and come back to seal the deal."

He turned on his heels hurriedly and reached Santana before any of the four men had a chance to touch her.

"All right guys, break it off." He said calmly and put the keys in the ignition, starting off the motorbike and causing the buzzing sound of the engine to reverberate throughout the entire warehouse. "Santana and I are going for a ride."

Santana was about to yell profanities at the dirty and sloppy men when Finn's hand clutched her arm hard, pulling her forward and forcing her to hop onto the vehicle.

"What the hell Finn, we're not even wearing helmets!" She cried out when he pushed up the kickstand in a hurry.

Finn was about to explain himself when one of the four men fell to his knees, coughing madly and convulsing wildly. Less than a second later, another one of the four men collapsed to the floor, vomiting a mixture of dirt and blood.

"Those guys are screwed, we need to leave." Finn warned, taking charge of the situation and meaning to swiftly drive out of the warehouse.

"We can't just leave them, Finn! They need help!" Santana hollered.

"What if they get us infected with whatever crazy virus this is?" Finn asked in a hoarse voice.

Santana opened her mouth to speak but was cut short by one of the sick men lunging at her. Finn, Santana and the motorbike all fell over and the girl shrieked painfully when she hit the ground hard. For a moment, she failed to breath. The emotion and violence that came with the impact had knocked the air out of her lungs and she didn't have the time or luxury to catch her breath...

_TO BE CONTINUED._

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_**Please, tell me what you think and let me know if I should continue. Thank you.**_


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter Two: Another One Bites the Dust_

…...

"Santana!" Finn screamed in fear and the girl rolled over just in time for the sick man to bite the ground instead of her shoulder.

Quickly jumping to his feet, Finn tackled the man as he readied himself to charge at Santana again. They crashed to the ground in a cacophony of clanking noises and screams erupting from the other men in the garage. In the fall, the two of them had smashed against a table full of tools, sharp wrenches and thick screwdrivers scattered on the floor and Finn yelped feeling a sharp edge grazing the back of his thigh.

Santana coughed several times before she finally managed to breath again. Holding onto the motorbike chucked to the side, she looked up and around in a frenzy, not wholly comprehending what was happening. To the far right, she could see Finn struggling against the mad man who'd previously attacked her.

A loud and painful cry came out of Finn's mouth and Santana felt her heart sink inside her chest. Rising up to her feet, she rushed to the range of tools hanging by the wall opposite, and without much thinking, she went for an edged hammer. Grabbing it forcefully, she realized she needed to be stiff for her limbs not to fail her. While her fingers shook uncontrollably, her legs weakened, threatening to wobble at any given time.

"Santana!" Finn croaked and the mad man released an inhuman growl.

He wasn't sure why he'd kept calling her, it wasn't like she had any experience in the art of survival. At least, he had the skills of a soldier, had had a few months of training to back him up, but it seemed Santana had nothing, no skill whatsoever that could help her except her brain and her "street-smart" thing as she liked to say. The last time he checked, she was a frail petite brunette who did more talking than actual harm. So when the mad man tried to bite him again, Finn hoped bitterly that his friend would run and save herself. Biting his lips in anticipation while his hand fumbled with the key chain he'd managed to keep locked around his finger, the boy let out a groan and clicked the army swiss knife open, driving it right into the sick man's neck, and killing him instantly. Santana watched the scene in shock, feeling her heart pounding hard against her chest and sending a rush of adrenaline up her body.

Instinctively, she rushed forward and toward Finn, staggering ahead in a hurry but as she was less than four feet away from him, the mechanic jumped right in front of her and thrust her away. She fell to the floor with a muffled cry and lost the hammer which bounced on the hard tarred ground before lightly hitting the wall and sliding under an old rusty car.

"Damn it!" She cursed as she proceeded to stand up but before she had the chance to pull herself off the ground, another sick man grabbed at her foot, dragging her away from the hammer and under him with his mouth wide open.

Santana shrieked, she knew he was getting ready to bite even though she failed to understand the situation. Her hands felt and groped around desperately for a tool, or anything she could use to protect herself for she was positive that she had to prevent the man from infecting her at all costs.

Finn let out an angry scream when the dead man tilted to the side, seemingly falling in slow motion, like a bear collapsing dramatically. When the sickening corps hit the ground lifelessly, Finn reached down for the army swiss knife, pulling it out of the man's neck. And though he knew he could move away and get going, he felt the need to finish the thing off, just for good measure. So rising to his feet, he grasped the two feet long wrench lying on the floor, next to the mess that he had created when they crashed on the table full of tools, and consciously gritting his teeth, he smashed the tool down mercilessly. The sound of bone cracking and the stench of the spatter caused the bile in his stomach to burn up but he tried to ignore the feeling as much as he could, refusing to let fear or disgust overwhelm his senses.

When the sick thing readied himself, plunging his jaw down to her throat, Santana felt the screwdriver at the tips of her fingers. Awkwardly, she craned her neck to the left, pushing with all her might as she squirmed and kicked and the man bit the ground less than an inch away from her neck. When he looked up, opening his mouth wide again and readying himself for another swing at her bosom, she had already managed to grab the screwdriver, and not sparing a second, she held it strongly in her hand, contracting her muscles and aiming at his eye. The mad man, crazed and unaware of Santana's intentions, pulled his head down again but the girl swung the tool at his face, thrusting it firmly into his eye, reaching the inside of his skull and causing dark and putrid blood to splatter, staining her face and sending her stomach into a sick whirlwind. The mad man released a painful growl and wobbled, tilting to the side before he collapsed to the ground with a loud thud.

Finn had had barely enough time to stand up to his feet when the mechanic charged at him, clasping his neck and bringing his throat dangerously close to his jaw. Raising his swiss knife in a swift gesture, the boy stabbed the man in the heart, getting the upper hand and with a hard shove, he tripped the man with his foot, causing him to stumble backward and crash to the ground hard, coughing and choking. Whipping his head around, Finn held on to the closest motorbike, pulling it toward the sick living thing and then sending it tumbling down on it.

…...

Rachel Berry shrieked when her friend's hands clasped her neck. One minute he looked sick and edgy but the next he was someone else entirely, or rather something else... Loud and wild growls escaped his bloodied and chapped lips as he pinned her against the wall, opening his mouth wide and pulling his head back.

"Oh Blaine, I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt you, whatever I said, I'm sorry!"Rachel apologized in a croaked voice, big salty tears dropping down her cheeks.

The two of them had always been good friends up until the day he moved in with her and Kurt. Something changed as time passed and after a while, she realized that the two of them always found ways to fall into dispute, mainly because he wouldn't help with the bills though he'd lived in the loft for months and partly because Rachel didn't like his carelessness regarding all sorts of house chores. He wouldn't even wash the dishes, and that to Rachel, was a clear form of abuse.

Blaine seemed oblivious to her apologizing and she gasped when his hands added pressure to her neck, preventing her from saying more and causing her to choke. The sick-looking boy blared his teeth like a wild animal and inhaled deeply as he smelled her neck.

Rachel tried to scream but failed miserably. Her face contorted and came to a dangerous shade of red as a feeble breath escaped her pursed lips. Out of the corner of her peripheral vision, she noticed the shiny golden trophy sitting atop her fridge and with shaking fingers, reached out for it.

Blaine Anderson, or what was left of him, let out a wild scream and pulled his head back, readying himself for a tasteful bite. But as his head came forward and his jaw plunged to the frail girl's neck, the shiny choir trophy smashed against his skull, knocking him down instantly and causing putrid blood to drip out of his noise.

She breathed heavily as she inspected the damage she'd just caused, bending down and nudging what used to be one of her best friends with her foot. The sickening thing groaned and his eyes fluttered open, staring right at her chocolate brown orbs and she instinctively brought the trophy down to the monster's face, ignoring the dark blood spattering her face as she pounced on the living thing fiercely.

She didn't stop until she heard bone cracking, and then he was gone, definitely dead and she could hardly believe that she'd just committed homicide, though she was only defending herself. Feeling around for her phone and finding it tossed under the kitchen table, she wiped her hands on her black jeans before dialing 911. Raising the phone to her ear, she waited for the tone which never came. Cursing and huffing, she dialed the number again. A female voice sounded through the phone and Rachel immediately started rambling incoherently until she realized the voice was a recording played over as an emergency procedure. The female voice simply stated that the city was under alert and that all individuals were to remain secluded inside their homes.

With a gasp, Rachel hung up the phone, running to the flat TV hung to the living-room wall and switching it on, she took a few steps back and listened intently as the distressed journalist held forth on the screen.

…...

"Holy shit, Mercedes." Puck whispered and gently let go of his friend.

"What?" Mercedes asked with a frown, wiping her tears away.

"Look at that guy." Puck said simply and nodded toward the man staring at them from the other end of the hall.

Mercedes turned around with a start.

"Damn it! Sam was saying the truth." Mercedes whispered and felt a cold shiver run down her spine.

"What do you me – " Puck started but was cut short by the man's loud roar.

"He's infected!" Mercedes cried out when the man jumped ahead, running savagely in their direction, baring dirty teeth sucking on chapped and irritated lips, his bulging reddish eyes staring at them hungrily.

Not sparing a second, Puck pushed the door open, dragging a shocked Mercedes inside with him and slamming the door shut just in time for the sick man to crash against it. Locking it securely, Puck rushed to the closest and biggest piece of furniture, dragging it hurriedly to block the entrance to the place while the sick man pounced wildly on the wooden door, threatening to force it open.

"Mercedes, turn on the TV!" Puck instructed and proceeded to carry several cupboards, full of dishes and which he added to the hoard of things blocking the entrance to his apartment.

Mercedes fumbled with the TV remote control, smashing the red button to switch on the flat screen.

A low budget soap opera appeared before her eyes with children running around singing and dancing and Puck furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, remembering the call from Finn's co-worker, Mike. He remembered the complaints, something about crazy men attacking or biting others and he feared that the madness he'd seen in his neighbor's unnatural face was only the beginning of a much bigger problem.

"I'm going to put on the the news." Mercedes said simply and flicked through the different channels until a well-cladded female appeared on the screen, holding a mike to her mouth and speaking rapidly.

"_The breakout occurred this morning around 6am, but it seems the virus is spreading fast with already more than a hundred infected people reported throughout the day. The national guard is being sent to petrol around the outskirts of the city and as you can see, a number of SWAT teams are already here in downtown New York, trying to contain the situation, especially when a number of people are discarding the basic advice they were given, in fact many of them have begun packing, hopping into their vehicles in order to leave the city..."_

Mercedes gasped when the journalist screamed painfully. A mad man had tackled her to the ground, clawing at her neck and biting at her face. The cameraman whipped around, running awkwardly and screaming unintelligible things but neither she nor Puck could understand what was happening in what seemed to be Manhattan, wondering at the images passing before their very eyes. The hoard of people in the large avenues were panicking, running in all directions, screaming and sometimes even attacking each other. The police and the SWAT teams seemed to be completely overwhelmed by the commotion, many of whom were being attacked by fellow citizens. The frenzy escalated even faster when gunshots disrupted the cacophony of screams, closely followed by an explosion from somewhere around the cameraman. A giant blaze appeared on the screen and the man yelped in fear. Puck ran a hand through his mohawk, feeling his throat tighten as realization hit him, Finn's co-worker was probably trying to warn them all, he was sure of it. Mercedes brought her hands to her mouth, holding in a muffled cry, she could still hear the cameraman panting heavily as he dodged the fire and the crazed mob, sprinting toward what looked to be an underground parking lot.

…...

As soon as she pushed the sickening corps away from her, Santana jumped up to her feet, looking back in Finn's direction. One of the four men was sprawled across the floor with the same dark and unnatural blood she'd been splattered with dripping from his neck. Feeling a series of heaves shaking her stomach, she convinced herself that she was relieved to see that it wasn't Finn. Next to the lying corps, she noticed the mechanic, squirming wildly as he tried to free himself from the large cylinder motorbike resting on his legs.

Panic and terror made her feel weak and desperate as she failed to spot Finn anywhere inside the garage.

"Finn!" She screamed at the top of her lungs and as a response the boy yelped in pain.

She rushed outside with a gasp, her heart pounding too hard against her ribcage, so much so that she was afraid it would jump out of her chest by the time she reached her roommate.

"Finn!" She called again as soon as she set foot outside the warehouse.

She shrieked when she saw the two men holding her friend to the dusty ground. She looked down at her fingers, mentally counting the amount of sick people in the garage. Three down, she thought with a frown, which meant that only the two grabbing at Finn were left to get rid of. She gasped when she looked over at her friend again, it seemed that he had managed to put up a fight, kicking the men in the face every-time they attempted another bite but he looked so tired and scared that she knew he would cave in soon.

"Golf club!" He hollered and punched one of the man square in the eye, buying himself and Santana more time.

He felt stupid and guilty for accidentally dropping the swiss army knife when the two men took him by surprise inside the garage, forcing him out of the warehouse as he tried to escape their grasp. For some strange reason, those men were much more agile than the others, and surprisingly smarter. They'd managed to kick the golf club away from his shaky hands before he could get a chance to swing at them and now he lay trapped under their weight.

"Santana! Help!" Finn screamed in fear.

Santana looked around in a blur, the teardrops blinding her momentarily but she quickly wiped them away with the sleeve of her jeans jacket. Four feet away from Finn was the item, glistening under the sun's glow and she ran for it. Grabbing it swiftly, she rushed back to Finn's side and swung the club at one of the men's skull. The living thing wobbled and managed to rise up to his feet, discarding Finn but strolling toward Santana.

"Hit, Santana! Hit!" Finn screamed in pain when his fist collided once again with the deathly face.

She obliged, swinging the club right into the thing's right eye and causing the dark blood to splatter again, staining the dusty ground around them. But the sick man only staggered uneasily, coming back for more and Santana growled with the last swing. When the tip of the club hit the man's skull, a crackling sound erupted, closely followed by the squelch of the brain being squashed in and the man crashed to the floor. A hiccup escaped Santana's lips as she gaped with her mouth wide open, staring at the corps lying face first into the dusty ground, and she knew in that moment that such a haunting memory would never leave her.

After another punch to the man's face, the cold and reeking black liquid stained Finn's fist and dripped down to his neck, causing him to cough uneasily. The situation was beyond logic and he wasn't sure if he was the least sensible but he guessed the awful thing used to be blood. When he looked up again, he noticed the sick think was getting ready to bite one more time but before Finn had the time to raise his fist, the man growled loudly and bent down abruptly. Finn yelped and covered his face with his bloodied arm.

With one surprisingly strong swing, Santana hit the back of the attacker's neck, stopping his jaw just in time for Finn to be saved. Breaking the man's bones and causing him to die instantly, she pulled the club up and with her dirtied booted foot kicked the corps away from her friend. The crackling noise shook Finn out of his haze and he startled, looking up at a blood stained Santana. Feeling paranoid and raising the club high up in the air, she whipped her head around, ready to swing at anything. Finn observed her for a moment, impressed and baffled by her looks. Visible beads of sweat glistened under the warm rays of the sun as they dropped down her forehead, her hair ruffling in the spring breeze and revealing dark rueful and yet implacably alert eyes.

"I think we're clear." She whispered in a feeble voice, dropping down to her knees.

Finn quivered uneasily, realization hitting him like a hard cold slap and he felt his every limb slip out of control. The shaking was both uncomfortable and unpredictable but the thoughts overwhelming his mind were worst than any trauma he had ever experienced. He had been unable to defend himself and the frail little Santana had saved him. Santana of all people had saved his life and killed cruelly in doing so. It was his fault. He was to blame for it all. He had been warned by Mike Chang but had wrongfully ignored the signs and now it was his fault that he and Santana were in that predicament. It was all his fault.

"Oh God!" He chocked out and crawled further away from the lying corpses. "We had to – we just had to do it – I had to, I had to, I had to... right?" He stammered uncontrollably and crawled to Santana's side, repeating the same words over and over again like a broken record releasing a series of identical sounds.

"Finn." Santana called and put a comforting arm around his shoulders.

The boy barely looked up at her before resuming his previous behavior, mumbling unintelligible things under his breath and swaying back and forth like a child trying to calm down but failing miserably.

"Finn. I'm here, I'm here too. Finn." Santana whispered and grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him lightly.

He looked up at her face with a grimace and put his hands over his mouth, resting his head on her shoulder and hoping to find peace in the embrace. Feeling numb and lost in a dreadful nightmare, Santana wasn't sure she could help Finn overcome the shocking situation if she herself wasn't even in control of her body anymore. Pulling away from him and staggering toward the path leading back to the city, she bent down, suffocating, her hands gripping desperately at her knees.

It didn't take long for her to throw up, feeling the gastric acid burning up her stomach.

…...

The loud knocking jolted Rachel out of her panic, causing her to startle and she craned her neck around, staring apprehensively at the front door. The journalist's voice sounded strained as it echoed from behind her, terrible noises reverberating along through the speakers and explosions blowing off in Manhattan and then blending with the sounds of actual sirens roaming the neighborhood. A very loud clanking noise erupted from outside the building and Rachel guessed that cars must be crashing into each other down the street. In the meantime the knocking intensified, turning into loud and constant banging. She felt torn between several atrocities, between the commotion outside and the commotion down the hall and behind her apartment's door.

"Damn it Rachel! Open the fucking door!" With furrowed eyebrows, Rachel rushed forward, discarding the TV and praying to God that her limbs wouldn't wobble and fail her.

She had recognized the high pitched voice of her roommate and guessed immediately that he must be in near danger, not to mention that Kurt Hummel never cursed. So with shaky fingers she unlocked the door to let him in.

The boy scurried inside with a shrilling scream and Rachel could only shriek along when she caught sight of the deadly monster lunging right at her. The thick wooden door hit the sick and bloodied woman in the face, pushing her against the frame and saving Rachel's neck by an inch. But the sick living thing wouldn't budge. With one foot blocking the door and half her upper body clawing at the wooden surface, she struggled to break in.

"Rachel, do something!" Kurt exclaimed hysterically as he thrust himself against the door, pushing with all his might and wedging the crazed woman in the frame as the side of the door hit against her heavy limbs.

…...

Quinn Fabray wiped the salty tears away with the sleeve of her red blazer. With a scornful grimace, she stared at her own reflection as she stood erect in front of the train's large glass window. The sun's backlight shining against the glass surface prevented her from looking in and gifted her with a particularly accurate portrait. Her red puffy eyes looked worse than usual, swollen and devoid of joy, they revealed black mascara trickling down her upper cheeks in a series of dark smudges which she had only worsened by scrubbing her eyes with the back of her hand.

How had she ever gotten so despicably mediocre? She wondered. Why was it that every-time she managed to pull herself back up to her feet, a crushing and tormenting failure occurred, dragging her back to that bitter state of social death. Why was it that all these men interviewing her always had to propose such disgusting alternatives? Why did her good looks have to be such a curse?

"Hey, watch it!" A teenager bellowed when he bumped into her shoulder, raising suggestive eyebrows and smirking knowingly at his friends.

"Shut the fuck up!" She screamed at the top of her lungs.

The group of teenagers stared at her with mouths gaping open. Shock and apprehension tinted their childlike faces as they whispered unintelligible things to each other, their eyes never leaving Quinn's.

Distressing images of former male coworkers and a series of perverted CEOs crossed Quinn's mind and she lost count of the number of striking and disheartening memories eating away at her nerves, driving her noxious and mildly aggressive. She had to face reality. The world of journalism and publishing was unforgiving. Those who succeeded were either remarkable people or else found, through debauchery and unspoken prostitution, miraculous ways of convincing others to hire them. She would have to forget about the _New York Times_ because there was no way in hell, as Puck would say, that she Quinn Fabray, would end up selling her body for business. The CEO who had dared offer her such a solution would simply have to suck it.

A loud siren erupted throughout the subway station, jolting the people out of their routine and causing them to scatter all away from the tracks and toward the exit. Quinn woke from her distressing thoughts and gasped as she looked around her in a frenzy. Gone were the group of immature teenagers, and the few people still present were running in the direction of the stairs leading to the streets down under the bridge.

"Young lady!" A staff member of the subway company came running in her direction. "You need to move out and away from the subway station, the entire city is going to be evacuated."

The young worker was a stout man with a dark uniform and a bright orange jacket. He was panting as he strutted around in a hurry, his hands holding bright light-sticks and gesturing in unison as he looked ahead at the coming train. Gazing at the sticks caused Quinn's vision to double with red luminous blurs and she stepped away, looking confused and scared as the man screamed at her to run.

Though the sun was setting, the warm and beautiful weather made it seem like the day was still far from coming to an end. And as Quinn bent over the railing to look down at the large busy avenue stretching under the station bridge, she thought she noticed a familiar face running amidst the panicked mob. A very young and well-built man with sandy blond hair and large plump lips.

"Sam?!" She called over the hubbub.

For a moment, the young man looked around with raised eyebrows, his features contorting into a grimace.

"Over here!" Quinn screamed at the top of her lungs.

And then he looked up. Their eyes met and she felt her body quiver when she noticed the desperation evident in his green eyes. Looking scared and panicked, he shook his head and with a desperate hand gesture, opened his mouth to yell something.

"Watch out!" Quinn barely heard the warning over the constant cacophony of voices. "Behind you!" Sam added with big scary eyes and the blond haired girl turned just in time to see the mad teenager charging at her.

…...

Finn rose up to his feet with a heavy sigh. Santana was walking back toward him with a hand over her mouth, wiping away the swivel. He wished he could throw up too but for some strange reason he felt neither sick nor tired but rather numb and guilty.

"I think I know what this is." He said when Santana came to a stop in front of him.

"Something's telling me your drunk army friend was right this morning?" Santana said with a dry chuckle.

Finn nodded and grabbed her hand, pulling her away from the dusty path and toward the garage.

"Should we call the police or – " Santana started but stopped mid sentence when her phone vibrated in her pocket.

She pulled it out of her pocket, eager to hear a familiar voice but was surprised to get an earful from a very distressed Mercedes Jones.

"I can't understand, speak slower." Santana mumbled into the mouthpiece.

Mercedes managed to utter a few words, sobbing and hiccuping but was interrupted by a fearful voice.

"Puck?!" Santana bellowed. "What the hell are you two doing? What's happening?!"

The line went dead before Mercedes had a chance to answer and Santana cursed before hanging up.

"Who was that?" Finn asked.

"Mercedes and Puck." Santana answered with a grimace. "I'm calling her back, we've been cut."

With shaky fingers, Santana found the number on her contact list and called again, bringing the phone to her ear.

"Hello!" She cried out but only heard the monotonous female voice announcing that the city of New York was in a state of emergency...

* * *

**_Thank you for reviewing, favoring and following. I will update as soon as I can. _**

**_Hope you enjoyed this chapter._**


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter three: Collateral Damage._

…...

Puck growled as he pushed the couch over and toward the front door. He hated to admit it but Mercedes was right. Soon, no amount of stuff would be enough to hold the door against the destructive pouncing and God only knew how many more sick people were raging madly on the other side.

"Damn it Puck!" Mercedes cried out and rushed to the window facing the fire escape. "I don't have a single bar."

Pushing the glass frame open, she leant over with a stretched arm, her trembling hand holding the phone up in a desperate attempt to reach a signal.

"Quit it, Mercedes, this is ridiculous! We have other fucking priorities!" Puck mumbled and kicked an entire wardrobe in the direction of the couch.

Mercedes huffed and rushed to Finn's bedroom.

"The fuck, Jones?! Didn't you hear what I just said?" Puck screamed and stomped after her, catching her arm roughly as they passed the threshold.

"We need to leave! Now." He advised harshly.

Mercedes felt a shiver run down her spine when she looked up at his fear-stricken eyes. She had known Puck really well, she could tell that he was not being a jerk. In fact, he was merely scared for their safety.

She still couldn't entirely believe that the two of them had known each other long enough to understand and predict their respective habits and even their unspoken feelings. She had to remind herself of the fact that they had even dated at one point. But then as they grew apart, she lost track of him. He'd stayed in Lima and she'd moved to LA. After a few restless months, she'd felt the need to go back east and so decided to fly to New York where she met with Sam. She always thought that her and Puck's relationship would be no more than a casual sort of friendship but then one day, she met him again. It was a fresh summer morning, she was on her way to central park for a healthy run and he was in a rush, hurrying to catch the first train back home after a long night of bar tending. He'd ran right into her, his chest slamming against her shorter body and causing her to fall backward. His illy-cooked hot-dog had dropped down her top, staining her shirt with cheap ketchup and reeking oil. And then they'd argued childishly over the matter, raising their voices at each other and gesturing wildly as they did so. But by some strange miracle, they'd end up laughing. She couldn't remember how or why, but they had somehow fixed the whole problem and with time they grew on each other until one day, Puck offered that the two of them have their morning run together. From this day on, the two of them had become the best of friends.

"Please, come with me?" Puck said hesitantly, his eyes twinkling as he looked down at her and she shook the fuzzy memories out of her head to focus on the immediate present.

"Of course." Mercedes let out a heavy sigh. "But I need to find Sam first. You know I won't leave without him." She insisted.

Puck nodded slowly, his heart aching at the mention of her fiancé. It wasn't that he didn't like the guy, Sam was kind, funny and calm. He was the perfect person Mercedes needed as a partner. But he had never been a friend of Puck's. In fact, several times throughout the year, Puck had felt jealous because the more time Mercedes spent with her lover, the less she was left to spend with Puck and their morning routines would often be cut short by some "Sam-emergency"; and most importantly, Sam Evans was just a guy, there were no ties whatsoever that held Puck accountable if anything happened to him. So in all justice, Puck shouldn't feel obliged to go after him and save his stupid ass, should he?

"I'll understand if you want to leave without me." Mercedes whispered and pushed Puck's hand away from her arm.

She could see in the grimace contorting his features that he wasn't too pleased by her plans regarding Sam's safety.

"No." Puck mumbled. "I know you must think I hate the guy or something – " He started.

"You can't stand him." Mercedes felt the need to correct him.

" – but I really don't! I just don't want us going after him blindly and then risking our lives for nothing." Puck's voice sounded drained as he put his hands on each side of his head, holding his aching temples.

"I know you're a solitary kind of guy." Mercedes said in a sad voice and Puck felt a pang in his heart. "You might not understand but _this_ is what families do, Puck. They look after each other, and stick together. Sam would never leave me behind so I owe him that much."

He knew he could never change her mind so with a very sad shake of his head, he stomped back out of the room and in the direction of the living-room. Hurt and frustrated, Mercedes ran after him, wondering what he was up to when she found him pulling at one of the floorboards in the middle of the large room.

…...

"Let's get back inside." Santana huffed and shoved her cellphone in her pocket, giving up on the non-existent signal. "Let's just grab the motorbike and leave." She added with a nod and walked ahead.

Finn stood behind her, his arms falling at his sides and his chest heaving up and down. He meant to follow her inside but for some strange reason, he felt dizzy and weak and walking seemed suddenly much harder than it was.

"Oh, common Finnocence." Santana said exasperatedly and reached out for him but the tall boy moaned as soon as Santana wrapped an arm around his waist.

"What? Did I hurt you?" She asked, looking down at his hips.

"I think something cut the back of my thigh earlier when I fought." He said with a grimace and passed a hand over the painful spot.

Santana gasped at the sight of blood staining his fingertips and sighed when she realized that the gash in the back of his thigh still released a lot of blood, soaking his dark jeans and making the wound look serious enough for him to need medication.

"Is it bad?" He asked worriedly as he craned his neck around, unable to perceive the wounded area.

"Hold on, I need to tear at the hole in your jeans to get a better look at it." Santana advised and crouched down, proceeding to tore the fabric open with her hands.

The texture gave way easily and she was able to see the damage caused by the cut.

"Oh – Oh God." Her mouth let out a another gasp and she immediately regretted her obvious reaction.

"Is it really that bad?!" Finn mumbled anxiously, his leg shaking ever so lightly.

"No - no, not really. It's just dust and dirt stuck on it. It's much better than I thought." Santana lied with a nervous chuckle and winced when her finger caressed the bruise around the lacerated skin, burned in some parts and layered with pus.

"Santana." Finn said flatly. "You know you can tell me if it's serious damage. I'm not going to freak out."

"It's not. We'll just sanitize it and bandage it and you'll be fine." She reassured him with a wide smile but he didn't seem quite convinced so she grabbed his blood stained hand and pulled him along as she walked back inside the large warehouse.

…...

Sam Evans could barely hear his feet clapping against the pavement as he sprinted up the avenue and toward the subway station located on the thirty feet high bridge. As he dodged the few groups of people running in the opposite direction, he couldn't help but scream his friend's name in fear. With a barely audible moan, he jumped over the car blocked in the jam created by the sudden panic in downtown New York, and after sliding swiftly over the hood, he landed on his feet, crossing the avenue without even checking his surroundings, his tired and blood-shot eyes exhausted by the constant change of scenery. Nothing could ever be anticipated, he realized with a growl when an old lady swung her walking stick at him, almost getting his eye but only grazing the side of his head and injuring the arch of his left eyebrow. Ducking away from the panicked and fear-stricken old lady, he noticed, out of the corner of his eye, a crazed man running straight at him with bloodied teeth biting at his upper lip and arms stretched ahead and ready to claw at anyone.

"Good Lord!" The old lady choked out with a yelp and threw her stick at the young Evans.

"Sorry child, I thought you were one of them." She apologized with a hand over her heart before taking off as fast as her weak body could allow.

With even more adrenaline kicking in at the sight of the sick man coming at him, Sam reached out for the walking stick spontaneously, and grabbing it swiftly, he swung it at the crazed man lunging at him, sending drops of putrid blood splashing around, and causing the inhuman monster to wobble. Not sparing another second, Sam took advantage of the head-start and ran up the stairs leading him to the subway station and to an endangered Quinn Fabray.

…...

Rachel Berry failed to repress her sick feelings and prevent the mixture from reaching up from inside her stomach, racing up her chest and flowing out of her mouth.

"Geez, Rachel! Now is not the time to throw up!" Kurt yelled out hysterically, his upper body bouncing with each hit the sick woman attempted to break inside the loft.

With hindsight, Kurt might have realized that his remark was even more ridiculous than Rachel's vomiting but the craziness of the situation disrupted his usual sense of humor as well as his ability to show common sense.

Rachel coughed as she bent down, her shaking fingers gripping at her knees and her brown eyes welling up again. Of course she was aware of the danger currently pouncing at their door, of course she knew she had to do something. In fact her brain was already thinking of ways to get rid of the menace but for some strange reason, her body wouldn't follow, failing her and forcing her to remain in the same position with her chest heaving up and down frantically.

The loud sound of a gun shot startled the two roommates and Rachel's head lifted upright, her tearful eyes wondering at the sight of the lifeless woman falling down to the floor. Kurt let out a hiccup as he stepped away from the front door, his mouth gaping open as he watched the lifeless figure lying still with the putrid blood dripping down it's lacerated forehead, a visible hole between her eyes released dark blood in profusion, reeking of death and catching Kurt off guard as he gagged with a hand on his mouth.

Rachel wiped the swivel away from her chin with the sleeve of her brown cardigan, her eyes trailing behind the lying corps and up to the half open door. There, in the middle of the frame, with hands clutching a small fire arm, was her boyfriend, Broody.

…...

"What the – ?" Mercedes started but stopped short at the sight of the floorboard being shoved away by Puck's hand.

Letting out a sigh of relief, her friend dug his hand in the large slit and pulled out a silver semi-automatic handgun.

She couldn't help but gasp as he pulled out the cartridge clip, checking the amount of bullets tucked inside it.

"Since when do you have guns?!" She exclaimed in awe.

"Long story short..." Puck started as he pushed the clip back in. "I was in serious trouble with a bunch of gangsters and needed some sort of back up just in case."

Mercedes's eyes grew twice their size, her heart pounding erratically inside her chest. The commotion down the hall and outside the apartment seemed to escalade to a whole new level as gunshots erupted inside the building.

"Hear that?" Puck asked with a nod. "I guess we're not the only ones with back up guns, huh?"

Mercedes nodded slowly, her hand clutching the golden necklace around her neck and fumbling with the bright and tiny diamond hanging to it. A subtle golden letter was incrusted in the plain pendant, reminding her of her loved one, _Sam_. To her surprise, Puck dug his hand down the slit one more time, slipping out two square boxes of munitions and another, darker and thicker firearm.

"What – what's that?" Mercedes stammered as she watched him load the heavy tool with numerous and bigger munitions.

"Pump-action shotgun." Puck mumbled proudly as he loaded the weapon with large silver items. "They blow an entire whole through the body of the assailant." He explained after switching the safety on. He then passed the strap of the heavy firearm over his head, carrying it casually and almost as if it were the usual duffel bag he took to work. Mercedes shook her head as she watched him tuck the boxes of munitions inside his jeans' side pockets, leaving only one in his hand as he walked toward her.

"I guess I'll be using the small Winchester." Mercedes said in a haze, not wholly believing the situation.

"Why I never thought you'd even know the brand but yeah, this semi-automatic will be very easy to handle and you can charge it real fast." He commented as he handed her the handgun and the box of munitions that went with it.

She felt the gun in her hands, roughly estimating its weight and mentally debating whether it worked the same way as the one that Sam had let her use back in Kentucky when they visited his family.

"I can aim pretty well with this thing." She felt the need to speak her thoughts aloud.

Puck furrowed his eyebrows in confusion as he watched her pull the cartridge clip out and then slip it back in swiftly. "Sam took me to this country place last summer near his parents' place and we got to try all sorts of redneck-like activities." She explained.

"Good then." Puck said simply and nodded encouragingly. "Because trust me _I do not_ hate to break it to you but I'm afraid we will fire these bullets much sooner than later."

Mercedes tried to grin at the smirking Puck but only gifted him with a half-hearted lop sided smile, her mind flooding with multiple scenarios, all of which involved images of a possibly dying Sam.

…...

Santana winced at the sight of the crazed mechanic, still struggling with the heavy motorbike laid over his legs but Finn, weak and dizzy, barely noticed the sick living thing as they entered the warehouse.

"We should fix your wound and then take anything that'll help us get through the city." Santana started and bent down to grab the bloodied key chain that Finn had let go of in his escape.

"We can't go back." He whispered tiredly.

"We have to." She countered as they stepped inside the quaint office room.

"Here." She said gently before letting Finn flop down in the wide office chair. "You had better keep this in case the mechanic frees himself and comes back at one of us."

Finn looked down and noticed the swiss army knife being clicked open by Santana's frail fingers.

"I'm going to finish him. There must be a gun somewhere in one of the drawers." Finn nodded, agreeing with Santana and letting her take charge of the situation.

Stealing a glance at the sick man nonchalantly, the boy proceeded to slide one of the mentioned drawers open.

"Kill one more man." Santana chuckled uneasily.

"He's too far gone anyway." Finn reassured her with a light tap on her shoulder. "I've seen this happen before. Trust me there's no other solution."

With a long and heavy sigh, she bent down to peer into the rest of the drawers and coming upon the last one left unchecked, she scoffed.

"There must be a key somewhere around here." Finn instructed as she pulled at the locked drawer.

"Where do you think – " She started but stopped short at the sight of the bright keys hanging to the swiss army knife in Finn's hand.

Rushing toward the wounded boy, she grabbed the key chain and picked the smallest key hung to it, using it to unlock the last drawer.

"So you've been here before, right?" Santana asked as she dug her hand inside the cubicle, searching through money and jewels.

Finn nodded slowly, his vision blurring slightly as he stared at his friend.

"Puck said the guy must have a lot of guns, he's a fan." He explained and proceeded to inhale and exhale deeply to control his panting.

"Yeah well, there's nothing here." Santana scoffed as she kicked the drawer back in, disappointed and growing angry as she reminisced the recent turn of events.

Frustrated, she stood up and looked around carefully. Finn hiccuped slightly as he fidgeted in the office chair and the crazed mechanic started to growl and yelp louder than he did before. The constant noise created by both a suffering Finn and the sick monster drove her noxious and she sighed. Focusing on the quaint room, she paid attention to every detail present, her eyes trailing up the walls and focusing on the cheap painting hanging sideways on the decrepit white concrete.

"What – what are you doing?" Finn stammered weakly when she gripped the sides of the dark painting, snatching it away and discarding it as soon as she noticed the metal safe. She was surprised to see its square tiny door ajar, revealing one gold bar and several silver handguns.

…...

Quinn Fabray growled loudly as her hand clasped the boy's neck, pushing his jaw away while his fingers gripped her sides vigorously. Her heart raced inside her chest as she wondered at the sight of the sick teenager baring his teeth like a wild animal. His face had turned several shades paler, his eyes sporting a thin layer of reeking pus. Down below, she could see his chest dripping with malodorous dark blood as a wide gash revealed his strange and rotting flesh.

Had it not been for the craziness of the situation, she would have vomited. But the adrenaline kicking in and giving her renewed strength prevented her from feeling sick. She could have sworn that she could hear her heart pumping blood erratically as she ducked down and backward, pulling at the boy's neck with all her might and sending him tumbling ahead and away from her. Carried away by his own illy-invested strength, the boy slammed against the top of the silver railing, his upper body toppling over heavily. And then he was falling from the bridge, arms stretching toward the railing, and legs shaking and kicking in a last effort to reach out for something to hold onto. But his open hands only swung in empty air as Quinn watched him fall. And soon enough, the disconcerting squish sound of his body hitting the ground reached her ears, causing her to falter and turn her head in the opposite direction as she crawled away from the railing. Reaching a nearby post, she leaned on it and looked down at her dirtied shoes, racking her brain for a rational explanation.

After failing miserably at trying to understand the situation and wiping her dirty and sweaty hands on her dark jeans, she closed her eyes and sat upright to catch her breath but a panicked Sam startled her as he emerged up the stairs, screaming her name and raising up what seemed to be a walking stick threateningly as he looked around him carefully.

"Sam!" Quinn called out with a whimper.

The blond haired boy looked in the direction of her voice and his eyes shone with relief when he saw her sitting down on the ground.

"Did he bite you?" He asked hurriedly the moment he reached her.

"He almost did." She whispered, out of breath.

"But he didn't." Sam insisted and pulled at her blazer harshly, uncovering her arms and shoulders and looking over her white button-up shirt with interest.

"No, he did not bite me." She said carefully and smacked Sam's intrusive hand way.

"Sorry." He mumbled uneasily. "I had to check."

"Why? Am I going to turn into the same thing if I get bitten?" Quinn asked bitterly, the vague memory of a zombie movie plaguing her mind as she pondered the teenager's sickly features.

"Well whatever virus this is." Sam started. "I think you can be saved if the venom is sucked out of the the wound right after the bite."

"You mean like snake bites?" Quinn asked in a haze and several more memories invaded her mind, images pertaining to a series of horror and science fiction movies.

"Yeah, sort of." Sam nodded gently, bringing a shy hand to her shoulder.

"Look Sam, I never meant to kill– " She started in a guilt-filled voice.

"It doesn't matter." He interrupted her with a shake of his head. "We need to get going! Find Mercedes and get the hell out of the city."

Quinn took a deep breath and stared up at his glassy sea-green eyes. Old memories of the two of them singing in high school came to her in the shape of distinct images and fuzzy melodies. Mercedes was never far in her mind, with her bouncy locks and her big dark eyes, her grin was like a magic trick, the mere sight of it always lightening Quinn's mood even if only in her imagination.

"Quinn?" Sam whispered and shook her ever so lightly.

"Sorry," She apologized with a sad smile. "I'm feeling a little dizzy with all that's happened within the last ten minutes." She explained and waved her hand dismissively to indicate that she was fine.

"We have to get you some sort of weapon." Sam said, furrowing his eyebrows at her as he wondered where she'd learn such nice moves for self-defense, surprised by her ability to throw the sick young boy over the railing.

Though her white shirt was slightly ragged, her blazer didn't look much out of place, sporting only a few drops of black blood on the sides. Her fear-stricken eyes and the black mascara dropping down her upper cheeks made her look ruffled but he knew that deep inside, she could still hold it together and that she had enough energy left for them to fight their way out of the city.

"I know." Quinn gasped, raising her eyebrows suggestively as she stared at the train remaining still in the middle of the station.

Sam looked in the same direction and shrugged.

"What?" He asked.

"Emergency window hammers." Quinn said simply and stood up.

"Oh, I see." Sam said in a childlike voice, proud of his friend's idea.

"Let's go." Quinn muttered and walked ahead and toward the open train.

…...

Mercedes held in a shriek when she slipped out the window and landed on the metallic stairs outside Puck's apartment. Down below the fire escape, she could see the crazed mob filling up the main street with as many sick monsters as there were healthy people. Among the throng, she could see an important number of SWAT teams, all dismantled by the commotion and with different members giving up on their mission as they desperately attempted to weave through the insane flock.

It didn't take long for Puck to climb out of the window too and she whipped her head around with a start when his feet landed loudly on the old and rotten metallic surface.

"It's a freaking minefield!" She cried out as he bent over the thin railing of the staircase, peering down at the catastrophe.

Puck inhaled deeply as he stepped backward and turned around to face a desperate Mercedes.

"I'm so thankful for Santana's choice, you've no idea." Puck whistled and looked up at the near top of the building.

"What?" Mercedes deadpanned, failing to understand Puck's remark.

"I mean the apartment." The boy explained with a nod toward the open window which they had climbed out of. "It was Santana's idea to have a place so high up in the building and I realize it's coming handy now."

Mercedes opened her mouth to complain about Puck's lack of clarity but ended up speechless as realization hit her.

"Ready?" Puck stretched his arm, extending his hand for her to take while his other hand rested over the strap of his backpack, making sure that the item was well attached to his back.

"You want us to go to the roof?" Mercedes cried out incredulously.

"See any other option?" Puck challenged.

Mercedes sighed as she looked down at the main street again. The commotion seemed to be only getting worse and she couldn't help but wince at the sight of sick people devouring other healthy victims. Sighing defeatedly, she looked up and faced her friend's smirk with a grimace.

"I guess you're right." She muttered flatly and felt the winchester handgun tucked inside her dark tights, resting securely on her right hip.

Puck grinned triumphantly and grabbed her free hand, pulling her along as he strutted up the narrow stairs.

"We're going to have to stop by my place, you know! I'm not going to go around with my freaking pajamas on. I need some seriously thick jeans and some badass leather jacket to survive all this." Mercedes complained as she took the stairs two by two.

"Will do!" Puck bellowed excitedly and stole a glance at her, sporting a childish grin, but Mercedes only saw the gesture as a gruesome and failed attempt at some mild form of optimism.

…...

Kurt rushed to the kitchen when Broody entered the loft. Though all hell was breaking loose and he could barely believe the very previous events, his body seemed to follow a certain logic and he was glad to note that under the extraordinary circumstances, he was having a very normal reaction; namely craving water after such screaming and struggling. But as he stepped inside the kitchen, eager to pull a much needed cool bottle of water from the fridge, a horrid sight took him by surprise, sending his heart into a terrible race and causing his palms to suddenly grow clammy and shaky.

Releasing a loud and long shriek, Kurt dropped down to his knees, his eyes trapped in a paralyzing sort of stupor and never leaving the shocking reality.

Alerted by Kurt's crisis, Rachel and Broody rushed after him and toward the kitchen, both of them coming upon a lifeless and monstrous Blaine Anderson lying down on the blood soaked floorboards.

"What happened?" Kurt cried out hysterically. "What happened?"

Rachel opened her mouth to speak but barely managed to utter a single sound, a sad little whimper.

"I thought he was safe." Kurt whispered and sobbed uncontrollably. "I thought he was home and safe from it all."

"I – I – I didn't have much of – of a choice." Rachel stammered uneasily. "He was trying to kill me. I'm so sorry Kurt."

Broody bent down to Kurt's level and very gently proceeded to draw circles around his back with the palm of his hand, hoping to comfort the hysterical boy.

"Buddy. There's nothing any of us could have done to save him." He said slowly and shook his head, showing how much, he too regretted the present situation.

"I know." Kurt whispered between two hiccups, surprising his friends with his sudden tranquility. "Same thing happened to Artie earlier today when we met for lunch."

Rachel gasped at the news, her heart suddenly racing again and her eyes welling up with more tears. Was the horror ever going to end? She wondered, or was it only the beginning of it all? Instinctively, one of her hands shot up to her chest, her frail fingers clutching at the golden necklace around her neck, a plain jewel with her name incrusted in it. As she watched the lifeless corps of Blaine, lying so still on the kitchen floor, she failed to push back memories of a smiling and dazzling Santana Lopez, the best friend who'd bought the "_Rachel_" necklace as a birthday gift. The one person who could cause Rachel to cry or laugh hysterically and the only person who could make her face the harsh reality. Where was she now that she needed her? Was she even safe?

Now more than ever, Rachel regretted deeply the stupidest decision she ever had to make and she wished more than anything that she could go back in time, to have a chance to beg Santana to never leave the loft, to never move out...

* * *

_**I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Thank you for following and reviewing, it encourages me to write more and faster.**_


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